Another Knight's Tale
by practicalamanda
Summary: Klaine AU based on the movie, 'A Knight's Tale.' In medieval times a sport arose, Embraced by noble and peasant fans alike though only noble knights could compete. The sport was jousting. For one of these knights, an over-the-hill former champion, it was the end. But for his peasant squire Blaine, it was merely the beginning.
1. Chapter 1

**I know I said I wouldn't do a work in progress over the summer, but this just wouldn't leave me alone and I slightly underestimated what my internet availability would be up here at my job. I'm hoping to update this fairly regularly, but perhaps not every day like I normally do with my fics. I've adapted generously from both Glee and A Knight's Tale, but everything you dont recognize from one of those two sources is of course my own work. **

**I also must disclaim from the beginning that like the actual movie, my goal is not really historical accuracy so if you're a stickler...sorry haha.**

**Come say hi on tumblr, practical-amanda.**

In medieval times a sport arose, Embraced by noble and peasant fans alike though only noble knights could compete. The sport was jousting. For one of these knights, an over-the-hill former champion, it was the end. But for his peasant squire Blaine, it was merely the beginning.

"I didn't think it's was possible to have last eaten so long ago and have so little appetite," came the disgusted voice of Sam who was standing a few paces behind his cohort, waving frantically in front of his nose in an attempt to clear the rancid air. "I'm no doctor, but this can't be good."

Blaine gave Sam a reproachful look over his shoulder, but the other man was having a difficult time taking his fellow squire seriously with the two pieces of cloth stuffed into his nose as a shield from the acrid smell of their master who appeared to be cursed with an illness of the bowels. "Well you can get used to an empty belly if we can't get Sebastian to wake up," Blaine responded, poking the knight with a long stick in a futile effort to get him to move. "He's due to joust in two minutes or he forfeits and and we can kiss the coin we were going to use for food goodbye."

"On a first name basis with Sir Smythe are we?" Sam said, plopping down onto the ground in defeat. "How cheeky of you. I know he favors your company at night, but that's no excuse for insolence," Sam joked as he picked at the threads of his patch that bore the crest of Dalton.

Blaine didn't even bother giving Sam another dirty look. It was well known amongst the staff of the castle that Sebastian "secretly" preferred the company of men. His father turned a blind eye to his lovers as long as he kept up public appearance with the ladies of the castle. Blaine did not especially like Sir Smythe. He was rough and rude and was known to treat his servants badly, but he had to admit that he was quite easy on the eye and the occasional night spent in Sebastian's bed chambers was not all together unwelcome. And for someone in a life of servitude, currying favor with one's master was never a bad idea.

"What he does at night is irrelevant, Samuel," Blaine said, using his friend's full name as he knew it irritated him. "I just feel that after watching him mess his trousers for the better part of the morning, it's safe to do away with such formality," Blaine continued as he went back to prodding Sebastian with the stick. He remained unresponsive.

"Damn, you're useless," Sam mumbled and lifted himself up off of the ground. He yanked the cotton from Blaine's nose and shoved it in his own nostrils in turn, as the other man quickly blocked the smell with his hand. Sam took a deep breath, ready to hold it as his bent over Sebastian and attempted to feel a heartbeat. "He's dead," he said bluntly after about a minute of investigation. Before Blaine had a chance to respond the fourth in their party came riding back to the group.

"Get ready to feast boys!" Puck shouted as he leapt from his horse. "All the guy in charge has to do is manage to stay on his horse and that money is ours."

"He's dead," Blaine responded, plainly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Puck asked in disbelief, looking past Sam and Blaine to their master.

"The spark of his life is smothered in shite. His spirit has left him, but his stench remains. Does that explain it?" Sam responded sarcastically.

"No way," Puck said, stalking over to the man whose head was lolling against the tree. "He's not dead. He's just asleep. I'll wake him and then we can go to the tournament."

Blaine shook head solemnly, but Puck took no notice. He was too busy shouting and kicking Sebastian, hoping to rouse some life from him.

Sam sighed and looked forlornly at his empty belly, "I suppose we should call a priest."

Before anyone else could respond, a King of Arms came trotting down the trail towards the three squires and their ill fated master. "Sir Smythe must report at once or he will forfeit the tournament," he said in a snooty tone, head held high.

Sam was about to respond by pointing to the obviously expired form of their maser when Blaine cut him off, "he'll be there right away," he said, his face betraying nothing as the two other squires gave him a disbelieving look, not saying a word as the King of Arms rode off back towards the castle. As soon as he was far enough down the road, however, Blaine sprung into action, "alright then, help me strip off his armor I'm riding in his place."

Making no move to help his friend as he suited himself up in the gear of a knight, Sam began to shout, "I'm sorry what was your name again? It's Blaine, right? I haven't been missing a 'Sir' that was supposed to be there from that start have I?" Sam said, panic rising in his voice. "Or perhaps it's Duke or Count or Earl Blaine? Is that it?"

"Don't be an ass, Sam," Blaine said, not halting his dressing.

"Okay, then you did attend the same trainings as I did? You know you must be of noble blood to compete?" Sam replied.

"You want to eat, correct?" Blaine asks shoving on the last bit of armor and taking the helmet under his arm. Sam nodded, unable to say anything else. He knew from experience that once Blaine decided to do something there was no talking him out of it. Puck grunted his agreement, seemingly un-phased with the turn of events. "Well then, let's go win a tournament."


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright we're slowly making our way through the story. Still staying pretty close to the original movie, but as the story goes on it will deviate more and more. I think that every other day is a fairly reasonable expectation for now, but the chapters will continue to be pretty short. I hope that's okay! I'm going to try and answer reviews as much as possible, but again my internet where I am is spotty and I might not get to it, but please know that I read and love all of your feedback. You guys are wonderful!**

**I also must disclaim from the beginning that like the actual movie, my goal is not really historical accuracy so if you're a stickler...sorry haha.**

**Come say hi on tumblr, practical-amanda.**

"The score stands at two lances to none in favor of Sir Smythe, second son of Henry Earl of Dalton, liege knight to Duke Robert of Westerville," the booming voice of the King at Arms rang through the stadium and Blaine was steadfastly attempting to ignore his pounding heart and sweaty brow. "stand ye ready?" he asked of the two competing knights. Blaine's competitor nodded immediately, but Blaine held back a moment, taking in the scene.

The crowd was riled and none the wiser that 'Sir Smythe' was just a lowly squire with an empty belly. Blaine thought back to his childhood as the son of a thatcher, dreaming that one day he would become a knight. His father had allowed him to sit on his shoulders and watch a tournament once before he started his apprenticeship, and since then all Blaine had wanted was to be a knight.

Blaine was knocked out of his reverie by a punch in the leg from Puck and the King at Arms repeating his question. "Sir Smythe, stand ye ready?"

Blaine nodded as well and Sam moved to slip the lance in place on his armor. "alright, easy does it, Blaine. You can go this."

"Don't worry so much," Blaine said, attempting to sound more confident than he actually felt. "I've sparred with Sebastian hundreds of times."

"It doesn't count if it's in his bed," Puck shouted from behind Sam, and Blaine was frustrated that the helmut was keeping him from sending the other man a glare.

Sam did it for him, but he continued to remind Blaine that the practice yard didn't count either. "You were always the target. You weren't allowed to hit him."

"It's a detail," Blaine said standing up straight on the horse and staring down the line to his opponent. "I've been waiting my whole life for this moment."

"You've been waiting your whole life for Sebastian to shite himself to death?" Puck asked sarcastically.

"Keep your mouth shut or I won't share my winnings," Blaine said and before either man could respond he was off on his first ever round of jousting.

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"Well, it wasn't the most graceful win, but whatever gets the job done," Sam said, leading Blaine towards the blacksmith shop. Blaine managed to stay on his horse and win the tournament, but the other riders lance had smashed his helmut in, making it impossible for Blaine to take it off. "At least no one said anything about the smell."

"Yeah, well, it would still be nice to be able to see again," Blaine said, his voice muffled from the helmut.

It only took a few minutes for the blacksmith to pry the helmut from his head and the three squires were off to split their riches amongst them. Sam and Puck took their five shillings each and began daydreaming about all the food they were going to buy, but Blaine was oblivious to it all as a huge poster on the side of the pub caught his eye.

_Workers Needed!_

_Tournament in the City of Lima_

The poster went on to give dates and pay, but Blaine could hardly contain himself long enough to finish reading. "Wait, guys, don't spend that money so fast," Puck and Sam turned to Blaine, disbelieving looks on their faces. "No, seriously, hear me out. What if I told you that I could change our lives forever for only twelve shillings."

Sam and Puck's faces didn't soften at all, but they didn't speak, allowing Blaine to continue. "All we would need to do is use one shilling each to get food, spend the next month training, and use the rest of the money to buy new armor so I can compete in the Tournament of Lima."

"Um...no way, Anderson," Puck said pocketing his five shillings. "I'm going into that pub and gorging myself until I can no longer move."

Sam gave Blaine a look as if to say, 'sorry I'm with him,' and patted Blaine on the shoulder. "Look, Blaine, I understand reaching high and all, but today was about as much adventure as I can handle for now," Sam said, making to follow Puck into the pub. "We're young, we have plenty of time to reach for the stars. We don't have to do it all at once."

The men were almost out of ear shot when Blaine made one last ditch effort to win them over, "Don't you think now is that time to be adventurous—while we're still young? You're fathers both worked their whole lives so that you two could be squires and make something of yourselves. This could be our one big chance."

Sam paused his walk and Puck let the door swing closed without going through, "This really means a lot to you doesn't it?" Sam asked, giving Blaine a long look.

"I want it more than anything in the world," finally the looks on both Sam and Puck's faces softened. Blaine could tell that he was slowly winning them over. "And I promise, when we wind that tournament in Lima, we'll feast like kings."

Puck took one last look at the pub and then back at the coin in his hand, "and you said we can still keep a shilling for some food?" Blaine nodded once. "Fine, I'm in, but you better bring it Anderson."

"I would do nothing less."


	3. Chapter 3

**I must disclaim from the beginning that like the actual movie, my goal is not really historical accuracy so if you're a stickler...sorry haha.**

**Come say hi on tumblr, practical-amanda.**

"We need a crest," Blaine said absentmindedly. Sam was patching some clothes in the corner and Puck was eating and drinking from a small ration of cider they'd managed to score. The three men had been training hard for a month and the next day they were to ride on to Lima. "I'm supposed to be of noble birth, right? I ought to have a crest."

"Why don't we just use Sir Smythe's? I'm the only one that knows how to sew and it'll take hours," Sam said, waving his notions around for emphasis.

"It's too risky," Blaine responded. "What if someone recognizes it? We need something totally knew like...I don't know...a bird or something."

"No way. That's completely lame. We need something fierce..." Puck interjected, "...like a lion!"

"Are you kidding me? Everyone has a lion on their crest," Sam said, forgetting his earlier complaints to join in the argument. "I'm down with the bird idea, but only if it's something really awesome like a phoenix."

"That's pretty good. They represent new beginnings and all, but I was thinking we should go for something even more different," Blaine said, "like a canary." Puck and Sam both objected to that idea and were beginning to protest loudly, but Blaine soldiered on. "No, come on, hear me out. Think about what a canary represents. Their cheerful and intelligent and fiercely loyal, and just like I can't do this without you, canaries can't sing without companions."

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you Anderson?" Sam said, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes, but Blaine could tell that he was winning. "You're not going to stop that overly ernest speech thing you always do unless you get a canary on your shield are you?"

"No, I don't want a canary," Blaine said, smirking a little when he saw Puck and Sam starting to get irritated. "I want three."

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"It's exciting to have so many people in the town. Is it not, my Lord?"

"How many times do I have to remind you, Tina? You may simply call me Kurt," Kurt was a noble in Lima, the son of the Lord Hummel, but he preferred that the castle's staff refer to him by name, especially the hand maiden who had become more like a friend to him over the years. Kurt was a funny sort of gentleman, at least according to the standards of the time. He chose to keep a hand maiden instead of a butler and he didn't care much for sports and hunting. He preferred the quiet solitude of the library or the calm of his musical instruments. Those who were close to him (only his father and Tina) knew that he also could only fall in love with another man, but to everyone else he was simply Lord Hummel's slightly odd child. What mattered was that Kurt was kind and caring and had made it his personal responsibility to ensure that everyone in the village, especially the children, were well fed and cared for. Despite his unusual nature he was respected and in most cases beloved. "I agree though, I've never particularly enjoyed watching the tournaments, but it's nice to see the way the town comes alive."

Kurt and Tina were walking back to the castle from the village, where Kurt was helping a family whose home had been damaged in a recent thunder storm. The roof had almost completely fallen through and they needed help and lumber to repair it. Tina watched the children while Kurt helped the family patch up the roof. Now, they were walking back through the village, and the town center was positively buzzing with the upcoming festivities.

Kurt was so distracted by the colors and general revelry that he was startled when Tina started talking again, "that crest over there," she said pointing towards a group of three men bearing a shield with three canaries, "where's it from? I don't think I've ever seen it before."

"I don't know. I've never seen _anything_ like it before," Kurt said, looking puzzled at the group. Something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. "One does not traditionally put such a delicate creature on a coat of arms." It wasn't until the group came closer to Tina and Kurt on the road, so that they were about to pass each other that Kurt noticed what was so odd, "Welcome to Lima good sir," Kurt said, minding the manners that were expected of him as a noble. "May I ask what land you come from? I've never heard of a place where it was traditional for the squires to ride the horse while the knight walked beside him on the ground."

Kurt couldn't help but giggle slightly at the knight's shell shocked expression as he moved his head back and forth between Kurt and the burly squire with a funny hair style that was perched atop their horse. Kurt couldn't pretend, however, that the knight's funny behavior wasn't a welcome excuse to stare at the young man before him. He was small of stature, but fit and toned as was necessary when handling a horse and weapon. His olive skin and dark curls hinted at what could possibly be a slightly exotic heritage, and his eyes—his eyes were the color of the warm honey he drizzled on his toast in the morning.

Kurt was snapped out of his staring, though, when the knight quickly offered a stuttered reply, "I...it is not our custom, but my squire has hurt his foot and I thought it best for him to rest for a time," for his part, Blaine was internally panicking at his mis-step. He should have realized when they entered the city limits that, sprained ankle or not, Blaine would be expected to be the sole rider of their horse. "We come from the town of Westerville."

Blaine felt relived that there was only a slight flash of recognition in Kurt's eyes, not enough to potentially give them away, "that's so very kind of you. It takes a special kind of man to give up his birth-given place for the comfort of others." Blaine finally took the time to look at the man. He was like no one Blaine had ever encountered in his life. His body was long and lithe, but deceptively muscular and he was dressed in the finest fashions of the day, only accentuating those qualities. Blaine's eyes traveled up the other man's body, almost of their own accord, taking in his creamy pale skin, the long line of his neck, and the beautifully delicate features of his face. "I should like to make the acquaintance of such a man. My name is Kurt Hummel. My father is the lord of this manner."

Blaine managed to gather his wits enough to reach a hand out and shake, but when he opened his mouth to speak he was once again shaky, but for a totally different reason, "I'm Blaine Anderson and these are my squires Sam and Puck," Blaine said, forcing himself not to linger in the hand shake. Kurt's skin was about as soft as it looked, but there were already rumors of his tendencies flying around the castle at Dalton. The last thing he needed was for such a thing to spread. "And who is the fair maiden beside you," Blaine said quickly, hoping to distract himself from Kurt's uncommon beauty.

Tina blushed and looked down at he shoes in a curtsy, "I'm no maiden, Sir Anderson, only a maid." Blaine took her hand and kissed it anyway, sensing that Kurt might be someone who was impressed by such kindness.

He must have sensed correctly because he saw Kurt's magnificent smile widen when Blaine released her hand and looked back up, "Well, we won't keep you any longer, Sir Ander..."

"Blaine," the man couldn't help but interrupt, "you should call me Blaine."

"Blaine then," Kurt replied and the other man admired the way his name sounded on Kurt's tongue, "and you must call me Kurt, but never the less we mustn't linger any more or my father will worry. I hope to see you again and if I do not see you before, good luck in the tournament."

"I shall seek you out," Blaine said, praying that his overwhelming excitement at the prospect of seeing Kurt again did not show. And with a final nod, the two parties parted ways.

**I saved this note for the end because I didn't want to give anything away, but this chapter marks the point where I'm going to start really deviating form the movie in some key ways. I'm assuming that the reasons for this are obvious, but of course you are always welcome to let me know if you have any questions.**


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